


bite my tongue, bide my time

by flying_grayson_girl



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Budding Love, Developing Relationship, F/M, Mild Kink, Mild Sexual Content, POV The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Tal-Vashoth The Iron Bull (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:56:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21086195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_grayson_girl/pseuds/flying_grayson_girl
Summary: The Iron Bull didn't expect joining the Inquisition to lead to anything more than gold in his pocket and fighting demons, but when he begins to notice what seems like flirting, he begins to reconsider what else he'll be doing while fighting alongside the newly named Inquisitor Lavellan.A multi part work exploring different moments in the relationship between Iron Bull and the Inquisitor.





	bite my tongue, bide my time

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently replayed Inquisition and romancing Iron Bull had a few scenes popping into my head that I wanted to write, so here we are. I have a few parts already planned, but suggestions are welcome.  
The name of the story and the first chapter are from Billie Eilish's "you should see me in a crown"

The Inquisitor nearly catches Iron Bull off guard, the first time she tries to flirt with him.

They had just returned from the Winter Palace, fresh off of court intrigue and sloppily concealed secrets, when the Inquisitor had appeared in the tavern. She had cleaned up, ginger hair shining in the warm light of the candles littered around the bar as her eyes flitted around.

She hadn’t been leading for very long, but Bull could already see the changes it - and the attack on Haven - was causing. Where before she could enter a room and fall into conversation with any number of patrons, now she entered and her shoulders were squared, her eyes darting to find every entry. It didn’t help that near everyone in Skyhold saw her as the Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor Lavellan, the one who had fought Corypheus and his archdemon and saved a good number of their lives.

Iron Bull couldn’t really blame her; his own time in Seheron had him ready for a fight at a moment’s notice. The attack on Haven hadn’t helped, but he had dealt with the paranoia and stress long enough that he knew how to keep everything inside. But Lavellan? She had only been dealing with it for a few months. It made sense that she was still coming to terms with her worry.

It took a few moments before she noticed him, which was probably for the better; the serving girl had taken a shining to him earlier in the night and something in Bull thought it wasn’t the best idea to split his attention between her and the Inquisitor. Or maybe he just didn’t want to split his attention, not when the Inquisitor was involved. As it was, the girl had only just disappeared when Lavellan’s amber eyes turned on him, smiling - a real smile, a crooked quirk of her lips and a crinkle at the sharp corners of her eyes. While her whole body didn’t quite fully relax, it was still enough for him to know that she had paused on checking the place for entry and exit points.

Bull found himself jerking his head, a “come hither” motion she returned in kind, finishing off a conversation with Sera before making her way, drink in hand, towards him and those of the Chargers who weren’t drunk enough to be dragged off to their quarters - which weren’t many, only Krem and Skinner, both of whom shared a look that Bull did his best to ignore.

“I hope you don’t mind,” She began, seating herself at his side with little ceremony. “I might have gotten started before I came here. I decided to finally crack open a bottle from my collection, some kind of brandy. Want a try?”

She held out her bottle, a deep amber reminiscent of her own gaze, and he accepted it with a murmur of thanks before knocking back a sip - and nearly coughing from the burn, unexpected from the woman whose nose wrinkled with distaste at wine and mead on more than one occasion. “This is strong enough to strip a carcass, where the hell did you find this shit?”

“A gift from a woman I helped at Halamshiral, as thanks for saving her life,” She smiled again, sipping at her drink with a nonchalance that he hadn’t expected. “That place was a shit show,” She muttered, her lips pulled into a tight line and eyebrows furrowed. The feeling was mutual.

“You know I’ve got no problem with Orlesians, but Halamshiral was a mess,” Bull murmured in reply, returning to his own drink and savoring the lesser burn. “At least under the Qun, you don’t get everyone tripping on each other’s dicks while the country goes to crap.” Hell, and was that an understatement.

The harsh line of her lips was gone, replaced by another of her crooked, genuine grins, this one big enough to show off the tips of her sharp canines, long pointed ears twitching once before coming to a rest. “You’ve got such a way with words, Bull. Maybe,” She paused, ears twitching again before she looked up at him with eyes twinkling in what was no doubt amusement, leaning in closer than before. “Maybe we can find some other uses for that mouth of yours.”

He...hadn’t expected that. For a fraction of a moment, Bull found himself at a loss, words foreign in his own head as he realized the way she had framed it, the teasing lilt in her voice matched with a flush of red across her cheeks that he had originally attributed to the alcohol in her hand. But now? He didn’t know how to respond, not when it was her, someone he could almost admit openly of admiring. Her reactions had always seemed so reserved around him, restricted to the subtlest of indicators of her general mood.

So to hear the overt pick-up line? It was - it caught him completely off guard.

Somehow he managed to reply, turning it into a joke about their next meal in order to cover up his complete and utter surprise. She had still laughed somehow, although not in that way he expected. Where most interested parties tend to be loud and boisterous, in some kind of roundabout way to catch and keep the attention of the object of their affections, she simply laughed and continued conversing as if nothing had changed - which, for Bull, was not the case.

Because things had changed. With one line, things became...different. Not bad - it definitely wasn’t bad, as far as Bull was concerned.

And that was when he decided: if this continued, he would be more than willing to indulge.

*-*-*

He knows it’s not the best idea, waiting around for the Inquisitor in her private quarters. But it’s difficult to find time anywhere else in Skyhold where there aren’t a handful of other people vying for her attention, not to mention a severe lacking of privacy that he tends to prefer in situations such as these.

He’s one of the party who returns with Lavellan that afternoon, the cooler breeze of Skyhold a welcome change after spending more than a week exploring the Western Approach. It was days spent trekking across sand, the dry and arid heat distracting him from the fact that Lavellan had hardly strayed from his side during their down time. It had been even more difficult dragging himself into the tent he shared with Dorian instead of seeking her out during the cool of the night.

But a rendezvous outside in the middle of the desert wasn’t what Iron Bull was interested in. Not with Lavellan.

There was a part of Bull that knew whatever this thing was between him and Lavellan was, it wasn’t something small. It felt big, only growing larger every time she surprised him with a line rich with innuendo, her tells becoming more obvious with each barely-veiled flirtation - the blush that dusted across her cheeks, visible despite her dark sun-kissed skin; the minute twitch of her ears that was becoming as much of a tell as the rare, full bodied laughter that he’d only witnessed a handful of times since joining the Inquisition; the crooked, amused grin that she so rarely offered to those around her.

So when they returned and Josephine announced a party to celebrate their return, Bull knew that the late hours following the party would be the best moment to voice his...concerns. Giving her all the information before she decided to continue her stumble into the unknown that was this _thing_.

Bull did manage to attend some of the party, although it was primarily spent overseeing the Chargers and insuring that no one damaged any property. He decided even before they had arrived back in Skyhold that he would stay sober, not willing to risk a drunken tumble, especially when Lavellan was so small. Her frame hardly reached his chest at her tallest after all, and she was slight, willowy, petite. It could be all too easy to hurt her by accident if he was drinking and he would be at fault, wholly and completely.

So instead, he spent his short time at the party keeping an eye on the Chargers, his eyes occasionally straying towards the Inquisitor whenever she was in view. She was smiling often, but it was the kind that he had come to recognize as a formality - forced, nothing like the genuine grins Bull had become accustomed to during his time fighting alongside her. She’d even dressed up, likely at the insistence of Leliana and Josephine, her undercut freshly trimmed and the lengthier ginger locks braided elaborately atop her head before ending in a short, curly ponytail. Her clothing was different as well, a far nicer pair of leather breeches and a simple but finely made olive green tunic that hung to her knees, with slits along either side that emphasized the slight curves of her hips.

She was, in a word, breathtaking, as she always was - even while knee deep in demons, her staff simply an extension of her body while her hair grew disheveled from the fight, a blush coloring her cheeks from the effort of exertion. Attractive in her ferocity and single-mindedness.

He disappeared as the party was winding down, just as others of the inner circle were retiring. Dorian and Sera were among the few that remained, drinking themselves into a stupor while the Inquisitor watched on. They were still chatting by the time he reached the entrance to her quarters, unseen by all but the spymaster and her agents as he made his way up to her rooms - mercifully quiet after the din of the great hall, only a whisper of it audible from the Inquisitor’s tower. He could just hear the echo of Sera’s unabashed laughter, followed by the proper, but no less loud, roar of Dorian’s amusement.

It was another hour before Iron Bull heard the sound of the door, solid and heavy, closing with a resounding click. The footsteps that followed were faint even when they reached the innermost door, a light step that could belong to only one of their group. There was a moment of elation when he finally saw the very top of her head, ginger locks coming into view as she looked over some papers - ever the diligent leader, never allowing herself to rest.

If this went the way he thought it would, Bull thought to himself, perhaps that would change.

She noticed him nearly the moment her eyes were above the wall, catching sight of him out of the corner of her eye and noticeably startling. Surprise flitted across her features, a more noticeable twitch of her ears before it gave way to amusement, her lips settling into that familiar, crooked grin. He could see the words on her lips, the subtle confusion flashing alongside excitement and the question that was already forming -

“So, listen,” Bull began, internally cringing at the feeling of having cut her off, but powering through the unease without letting his worry show. “I get what you’re saying. You want to ride the Bull. Can’t say I blame you, but I’m not sure you know what you’re asking.” He paused for only a moment, taking in her expression from across the room as she stood there, the realization lighting up her eyes as he stood up from the bed, his body moving no closer to her than before. “Not sure if you’re ready for it.”

She rolled her eyes at that one, as he had expected, but her smile never disappeared. “Oh, I’m ready for it,” She nearly purred, moving only to put down the papers she’d been focused on only a few moments before, her attention shifting to him in its entirety. “I was hoping you would catch the hints soon, before I had to come up with something more imaginative than a pick-up line,” She murmured, tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip and smile morphing into something closer to a smirk, wickedly beautiful and deadly.

“See, you say that,” He started, slowly waltzing towards her, purpose in his step, “but you really don’t know what that means.”

Her entire posture changed, although he noticed that it was no more relaxed than before. She was presenting, body forming to what she thought was attractive, as if he didn’t find her beautiful every time he saw her - even in the middle of battle, dirt or blood smeared across her skin and her mark casting an eerie glow on the battle field. Uneasy, out of practice maybe, but still a considerable attempt at offering him a vision of her, confident in her sexuality. 

But Bull was Ben-Hassrath. He could tell the difference between authenticity and a fake, and this was fake. And far less genuine than he preferred in situations such as these.

“So why don’t you show me?” she asked, an attempt at coy and teasing - right until Bull moved.

His movements were slow and purposeful as he approached her, towering over her as he took her wrists, pushing her closer to the wall until she felt it against her back, gasping at the contact. He raised her arms high, wrists pinned in place and leaving her prone in front of him. He felt more than saw her whole body go lax, felt the way she rested her weight against him more heavily, looking up at him, breathless and surprised.

“Last chance,” He murmured, wanting so badly to kiss her once before he returned to this - in control, measured, all so she could let go, if only for a short while.

There’s a moment where he worries over her answer, his only thought of how there is a chance she might say no, might turn him away after showing her this. It’s her right, to say yes or no, but it doesn’t make the nerves in his stomach go away or the small inkling of dread that picks at him when he thinks too much about it. All he has is this, the wait until she answers.

He worries, but he realizes there’s no reason for it as she smiles up at him - that genuine, crooked smile that appears with a hitch of her breath before she manages to reply, “Won’t you please stay, Bull?”

Her words are soft and there’s a tone to it that he’s not quite used to hearing, not from _her_, something like want and pleading mixed together before he picks her up by her thighs, pausing only a moment to appreciate the feel of her legs wrapping around his waist before he takes her to bed.

They don’t manage much more than a few tumbles, colored by the control she allows him. He doesn’t attempt anything more than rough caresses and doesn’t plan on it, not until they’ve gotten a moment to discuss it outside of the heat of the moment, but she seems to flourish under his hands. She gives everything, surrendering, and he accepts it.

The sun is just beginning to rise when Bull finds it in himself to pay attention to the outside world again, although it pains him to focus on anything but the woman in his arms. Her hair is disheveled and there’s a mess of bruises across her body, a trail beginning at her neck and ending somewhere along her inner thighs. But despite the frenzy of the night, her lack of sleep seems to finally catch up with her; she’s sleepy on top of him, her head resting atop his chest while his hands run lightly across her back, working sighs and deep breaths from her as she lets herself be, if only for a few moments.

But with the sun rising, it means that their time is nearly up. So with great reluctance, Iron Bull begins the arduous task of removing himself from her bed, smiling slightly when she grumbles in disagreement. “Sorry Inquisitor but I promised training with the guys,” He murmurs, huffing out a laugh she she mumbles, inaudible with her face planted against his chest. “You said something, boss?”

“I said,” she mutters, sounding cross despite the slight grin she flashes as she finally looks up at him, “After last night, I think you can call me Mihris.”

He freezes, although he recovers quickly enough to nod. “Yeah, sure thing bo - Mihris.”

She smiles and releases him, although she only buries herself beneath the thick comforter that someone was mindful enough to procure. It takes all his effort to ignore the sight of her - naked save the blankets - and instead get dressed, his mind returning enough that he can hear the open and close of the main door a couple floors below, just barely audible. His ears twitch at the sound before he finishes up, pulling on his boots before getting up from the bed. “Someone is coming up. You should probably rest; want me to tell them you’re busy?”

She groans in reply, turning over to look at him. There’s a frown on her lips as she reaches out, smiling only when he takes her hand. “Tell them anything you want, but maybe a kiss for the road?”

Bull indulges her, leaning over the bed to kiss her once more before he has to leave. But what was meant to be something resembling chaste quickly changes, turning into something heated - the last embers of the night, warmth curling low in his stomach before he pulls away, groaning when he looks down and finds that the blankets have slipped and left miles of skin uncovered. Her tits are right there, close enough to reach out, but the footsteps are only growing louder and there's a part of him that doesn't want to share this quite yet.

Then she giggles - _giggles_ \- at his internal struggle and he pulls away, giving her a look that is as much a warning as it is affectionate. “You could get back in bed, you know. I’ll just tell whoever’s at my door that I’m taking a day for myself.”

The thought was, Iron Bull could admit to himself, a good one. But as much as it excited him, there were things he had promised - something he was coming to regret with each passing moment.

“You rest,” Bull finally answered, smiling as she huffed, burying herself further beneath her blankets in reply. “Hey, rest now and later we can talk about this - after you get some sleep, Mihris.”

And there it was, that smile that she shined up at him, muddled by sleep but no less striking. “After sleep, Bull, I’ll hold you to it.”

It was easy after that to remove himself from her space, making his way to the door with just enough time to intercept Leliana on her way in. “Is the Inquisitor inside? I have some information that may be -”

He doesn’t quite think before he cuts her off, a gentle “no” on his lips before he motions behind her, guiding. “Let her rest. She’s exhausted after last night,” He adds, although he regrets his choice of words almost as soon as they’re out of his mouth. “The party took a lot out of her.”

Leliana laughs, but it’s impossible for Bull to miss the calculating gaze as she launches into talk about others of the Inquisitor’s inner circle who could say the same, restraining herself from commenting. Even if she didn’t mention or bring up the topic of why he was coming out of Lavellan’s rooms shortly after dawn, there is no doubt that she knew - no reason to try and lie about it, when she's just about the most informed person across Thedas. 

So he converses with her before parting ways in the great hall, the Nightingale on her way to her roost, while Iron Bull makes good on his promise to the Chargers - even if most of them are regretting their decision when he wakes them bright and early from their hungover slumbers, only to run them through rigorous drills.

And if Bull is a little overkill, well, he's in one hell of a good mood after the night he's had.


End file.
